


Damn Him and Those Pretty Eyes

by FormulaFerrari



Category: Formula 1 RPF
Genre: Alternative Universe - Poilce, Developing Relationship, Flirting, M/M, Points of View, alternative universe
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-01-06
Updated: 2014-05-24
Packaged: 2018-01-07 17:34:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,748
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1122556
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FormulaFerrari/pseuds/FormulaFerrari
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Police Constable Webber is getting bored of his job that has had him stuck in a rut for twelve years. But maybe a certain car can change that...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Speeding Ticket

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> One boring day leads to a chance meeting.  
> And it changed Mark's life forever.

Sitting in the police car at the side of the road is boring. All you get is people giving you fleeting looks before checking their speed gage. I suppose that’s the idea of us sitting here; people don’t want to get caught so they slow down – or at least check. But really? There are many more things I can think of to do in the early hours of a Sunday morning than this… Like sleep. I always sit in the drivers seat. Whatever my college may say I’m older and I don’t care whose pocket he’s in. If he’s on a job with me I drive. End of discussion. So I sit here with my hands gripped tightly on the steering wheel and Constable (alike me) Vettel is next to me, holding up the speed gun. We’re both bored. Nothing ever happens round here. I’m sure only seventy-year-olds have cars in this town; no one ever speeds. Nine hours of my life I have to waste doing this, just to go back to the station, complain and be sarcastic to my rank inspector and then go home. What a fun life I lead.

I joined the police because I wanted to go into action, you know, James Bond stuff, beating the bad guys, solving the crimes. But in this little town apparently none of that stuff happens so I have to sit and watch cars speed past. Police Constable Webber (or P.C. if you prefer) was not the title I envisioned for myself all those years ago when I signed on the dotted line. Twelve years of little promotion and shit jobs is always going to bring a man down. Whereas the guy on my left… Yeah, he’s on the verge of breaking into the big boys game. I kind of hate him for that. 

“Mark… I’m boooored.” He whines as a red Renault Cleo goes past happily within the speed limit. Thirty-eight. Seb lays the speed gun on top of the glove compartment in front of him. Did I mention he’s such a whiny baby? He may be on the brink of something big but he’s still young and mundane activities like this one tend to bore him quickly. He has the same want as me: get into fieldwork. That always looks more exciting than sitting in a car at one in the morning and pointing a black box at people. I’m sure that’s why he pushes Inspector Horner so much. I just want to be acknowledged because of my skills, not how whiny I can be. 

“It’s a boring job.” I say, not looking over at him. He turns to face me.

“Think of something to do.” Seb pleads. Of course, I should have been expecting this request. Normally it comes a little later than this, but I just sigh. Seb expects me to be able to make any situation more fun. I can’t see why he thinks so; I’ve never given him any indications I can. I don’t particularly like working with Seb – I’d choose Constable Button over him any day. I think since he came up the ranks from the little connected village he was at before – where he only had night patrols to keep him occupied – in 2009, I’ve just felt like he’s been trying to take my position at the station. Like in 2010 when we were given a cold case that had lead the detectives from Turkey here to us (apparently the suspect had holidayed here for a little while) and they wanted someone who knew the area to help them. That was my opportunity. Horner suggested me and I accepted gratefully… Until Seb decided he was going to tag along. Horner discharged him from the case, eventually, but the damage was already done. I don’t think I’ve ever quite forgiven him for that. Or the fact he seems to get Horner’s favouritism now…

“You’re the one who is bored.” I say, drumming my fingers slightly on the steering wheel. He picks up on the bad habit of mine that shows my impatience. 

“As are you.” He says, pointing at my fingers. I stop abruptly and turn to face him. 

“Fine.” I exasperate. “What do you want to play?”

“I-spy?”

“Fine.” I repeat, turning back to looking out of the windscreen. This is definitely not the life I signed up for. Sitting in a car at half-past one in the morning playing I-Spy with Sebastian Vettel? No. No thank you. He started. He always starts when we play these stupid games. Simply because if he waits for me to start we don’t play. He tried that once. It was a quiet two hours. 

“I spy with my little-”

“-You don’t have to say the whole thing.” I state. He turns to look at me, frowning. 

“But it’s part of the game.” He states. I look over to him. 

“We’re adults playing a child’s game at half-one in the morning, just give me the letter.” I sigh. He huffs. 

“R.”

“R?”

“Yes, R.”

“And they’re aren’t any secret letters you’re not telling me about?” I question, not wanting to go through that charade again. He rolls his eyes at me. 

“No. Just R.”

“Right.” I say, turning back to look out the windscreen. My eyes dart around the road and the pavement looking for the mystery R. It’s never something obvious with Seb, you really have to look for it. Like right now. I think I’m looking for something outside the car. So my eyes are raking the street and he’s got a stupid little smirk on his face. A smirk I don’t fail to notice. As I look at him to take my first guess, my eyes fall on the little radio propped in the drinks holder. Very obscurely placed, very coincidental that I’ve seen it. Still, combine it with that little smirk and you’ve got a pretty good guess. “Radio.”

“What?” He says, looking at me like I’ve read his mind. It’s now my turn to smirk. 

“Was that right?” I smile. He folds his arms. 

“Yes.” He says grudgingly. I relax back into my chair and close my eyes. “Your go.”

“T.” I say, knowing there are always trees about somewhere.

“Trees?”

“Yup.”

“You suck at this.” He comments, leaning forwards to look out the window. 

“Yup.” I yawn. He shoots me a look I don’t see. 

“R.”

“Another one?”

“Yes.” I open my eyes to see him smile and sit back in his chair. Great. I echo his last movement and sit forwards. I look up at the starless night and then down the road. Nothing. I can’t see anything around that begins with R. 

“Road?”

“No.” my eyes pass along the street again.

“Railway?” I say, even though technically you can’t see it he’ll claim he can just about. We’ve had that one before. 

“Nope.” He says happily. I get bored of guessing quickly. I have to concentrate to an extent. I let my gaze fix forwards, vaguely wondering how long I would have to sit here in silence for him to understand the game is over. This is such a stupid game. I take in the things in front of me. Zebra crossing. Café. Pavement. Road. Rails. Fence. Roundabout. Road sign. Pedestrian. Speed bump. Traffic lights…

Roundabout.

“Roundabout?” I ask, turning back to him. His face has dropped into a bored expression. 

“Since when did you get good at this game?”

“You know there are other things we could be doing.” I say, trying to find a way out of this game that is quickly turning into a vicious circle. 

“Like?” He challenges. Cleverly; I can’t think of anything. He gives me a smug look. “Your go.” A car drives past and we pause our game to check the speed. Thirty-nine. Fine. 

“C.” I say, hoping this will be a quick round and picking something extremely obvious. Or so I thought. Seb goes quiet, eyes darting around. I watch him for a moment before I get bored and rest my head back on the headrest, closing my eyes. 

“C?” He says after a short period of silence.

“Yup.”

“There are no C’s.”

“Yes there are.” He goes quiet again beside me for a little while. 

“There is only ‘car park.’” He states. I open my eyes to see him fold his arms. 

“Don’t like loosing, do you.” I state with a small smile. He shoots a glare at me. “Do you give up?”

“Only because your stupid thing doesn’t exist.” Seb pouts, turning to face me. 

“Car.” He blinks at me as if he’s still waiting for me to speak. His eyes then drag to the road and take in the fact there are no cars there.

“You can’t constantly see it.”

“Yes you can.” I counter. He turns his body in his seat to look at me.

“Where?” he says in a bemused tone. 

“What are we sitting in, Seb?” I say, satisfied and sit back in my chair. His eyes circle the area around him before he huffs back in his own chair and faces the front window. A smile creeps onto my lips. “That’s the end of that game then.” I muse. He doesn’t reply. 

The next half and hour passes with not a lot in it. Seb’s still pissed at me for my obvious but not so obvious I-Spy and isn’t speaking to me. I relish the silence, only interrupted every now and again by the bleep of the speed gun Seb is using. Though I am fully aware that this silence won’t hold; he will get bored again. For now I just sit, letting my thoughts swirl in my head. Nothing of drastic importance, just thoughts of what I want to do with my life and what I can do to get myself out of the rut I’ve dug myself into over the past twelve years. It’s clear to me, and has been for some time, that I’m not happy. My thoughts are brought to an abrupt halt.

“Don’t you think we should be given complimentary donuts for being policemen?” Seb muses, eyeing up the café across the road. I sigh. We’re at this time now.

“That’s only American films.” I say, opening my eyes slowly. Seb looks over at me.

“Yeah, but we’re doing a public service. Don’t you at least think we should get free snacks?”

“Do you want to go and get a donut?” I ask, rolling my head so I’m looking at him. He begins to play with the air conditioning vents in the middle of the car. 

“We don’t have to go and get a donut just because I talked about them.” Seb says in a tone letting me know he does. I turn on the engine. Technically, we’re not supposed to leave our post until our shift is over – at seven in the morning. Everyone does. It’s such a long shift with so little happening everyone takes a break, goes for a little drive. Depending on the pairing, you can normally work out what times there won’t be a watch on. I try and make my shifts not so predictable. I pull up to the café’s drive-through and order Seb a donut. I don’t want anything. Five minutes later we’re back in the watch spot and now Seb has a paper bag he can rustle. The sound is starting to grind on my last, raw nerve. 

“See? Don’t you feel more Starsky and Hutch now?” he says, swallowing another mouthful.

“No, Seb. One donut doesn’t change a thing. We’re still just sitting in a car but now you have food.”

“Don’t have to be so realistic about it.” Seb comments. I shrug. Bored again. And I hear the next car before I see it. It sends a tingle down my spine. I know it’s going to be a sexy car before it pulls in front of us. Only sexy cars can make that noise. The red Ferrari 458 drives past us with such grace and glamour. I feel my mouth drop open slightly. I pick up the discarded speed-gun from in front of Seb. Forty-One. Its only doing forty-one! That’s like a crime! The power of that engine! And the deliberate design to make it more aerodynamic and fly faster! With a machine like-

-Right, Mark. Speed limit. 

But I want to see it race past because then I get to hear it and I get to stop it and find out whom the lucky bastard is who owns it. I turn to Seb who looks more interested in his donut. 

“Did you see that?” I ask, my excitement clear in my voice. Seb looks up at me as if I’m mental and have lost the plot. 

“See what?” Unbelievable. 

“The car! The Ferrari! The beautiful piece of machinery that past us!” I exasperate. Seb shrugs.

“Just a car.” He says and it takes all of my restraint to not punch him. See, this is why I prefer Jenson. Show Jenson a Ferrari and he would react very similarly to me. Seb, though… Seb only cares for his donut apparently. I frown as I turn back to look out the front window. 

The odd thing is, the Ferrari keeps coming back. At first I have to check I’m not imagining it by asking Seb. Then I try and enthuse Seb about the car – he still doesn’t understand. But after a while the excitement wears off. It becomes a thing I’ve seen so many times it’s not of interest anymore. 

We somehow make it through the shift without killing each other and we’ve got half an hour left. Always the worst half an hour of the shift because you’re so close to going home you end up watching the clock. The light is just breaking over the building tops in the distance and I have counted the Ferrari twenty-one times (always maintaining a limit of around forty mph annoyingly). Both Seb and I are getting agitated, can’t wait for the moment we can drive off. That’s when it happens. That’s where the roar screams down the road. That’s when the sound shakes me to my very core and I have to fight the smile off my face. Seb and I exchange a look and we both know, without need of the gun, the Ferrari is hurtling towards us a lot faster than forty. It’s a long straight road but I’m still surprised when Seb shows me the speed gun and it captures eighty-three. I turn on the engine as Seb gets the light and siren as we drive of quickly in pursuit. 

~

Shit. This is typical. How many times do I drive down the road for the route and not see the fucking police car? Kimi will definitely win our little race now, I think. Even though his route was a lot longer than mine I had to fight through the middle of the town. And being pulled over will not help. I sigh as I come to a stop and look in my wing mirror to see the flash of blue lights park behind me. Andrea will not be pleased. 

I hope a woman police officer will come and talk to me. Am sure I can use my accent and Spanish flare to get myself out of trouble. I keep watching the drivers door of the police car until it opens and a tall man with a sharp jawline steps out, pulling a black flip pad from his back pocket. Checking my rear-view mirror I see his associate is a slightly shorter blonde man. Double shit. I push my sunglasses back up my nose and sigh, winding down my window.

~

Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. It’s here. Like, right here. I could put my fingers on it. But I don’t. I’m just saying I could. I walk slower as I get to the arse of the car, looking at the engine through those beautifully crafted panels. Ok, focus. He or she was doing eighty-three in a forty zone. No matter how fucking nice their car is that’s still dangerous. The shinny prancing horse just above the number plate screams to be touched, traced by my fingers. I don’t, even though I really badly want to. I write down the number plate and straighten myself back up. Deep breaths. I head over to the driver.

The man appears from behind the glass as he rolls the window down. He slides his sunglasses down his nose until he can look up at me over them. Brown eyes. Huh. They kind of demand to not be looked away from. I force myself to look at my pad of tickets, making my notes. Date. Time. Speed of car. Speed of zone. Come on I know how to do this. Just because he has a flashy car and really nice eyes doesn’t mean I have the right to forget and start thinking about what he would look like outside of his car. Short or tall? Fat of thin? Gay or straight?

Not that that has got anything to do with anything. 

“Do you know how fast you were just going?” I ask, feeling like a dick. He probably does. Was probably very aware of the speed limit and of the fact he was breaking it by ten fold. The cliché line makes me sound weak and rehearsed. He probably thinks it’s my first day on the job. I flick my eyes over to him when he doesn’t speak and he smiles at me like we’re sharing some kind of joke. 

“Over the limit or I would not have been stopped.” He smiles and I find myself emulating that. His accent gives him away as not being English. Spanish or Italian maybe? I shrug at him as I return my eyes to my pad.

“You could say you were a little over, yeah.” 

“By how much?” He asks curiously. I don’t need to consult my pad to tell him. 

“Limit is forty, you were doing eighty-three.” I say. He looks more proud of himself than anything. 

“Then yes. You have to say I was over the limit.”

“Kind of catastrophically.” I say, looking back at my pad. “Not that I can blame you really.” I let slip before I can stop myself. The guy in the Ferrari looks up at me confused and I can feel Seb’s eyes burning into me. 

“You cannot?” he asks. I sigh.

“Just look at what you’re driving. Ferrari 458. Mate, if I was you I’d be speeding. Sod the tickets that one hell of a ride. And if you can afford to buy and insure that you must be rolling in it.”

“Mark!” Seb calls from the other side of the car. I look up at him, and away from the guy in the Ferrari’s laughing face, as he crosses next to me. “I don’t think encouraging speeding is the right way to go about this.” Seb muttered to me before turning to the Spanish or Italian guy. “Irrelevant of your car, you were still forty-three miles per hour over the limit. What if you had hit someone?” Seb tries to play the guilt card on people. It normally works. I have a feeling it’s not going to get him very far this time though. The guy in the Ferrari looks to me as he rests his arms on the window frame. 

“Am confused. Thought I was talking with you, who is this?” The guy asks. Seb gets out his badge. 

“I am P.C. Vettel and you’ll be very careful talking to me.” He says. I shake my head slightly, sighing. 

“So you are of lower rank than Mark?” The guy asks. My name sparks my attention and I look back over at the Ferrari guy. Seb’s hands have tightened around his badge.

“We’re of the same rank.” Seb spits, putting his badge away. The guy points to me. 

“But he is the driver, no? So he leads?” I like this guy. Just enough cockiness to be ballsy and he’s known Seb about two minutes and has already accomplished winding him up more successfully than I have in the past four years. Seb walks away and I smile at the Ferrari guy. I shouldn’t encourage it but it is funny. I crouch down so we are the same height. 

“I am going to need your name,” I say, flipping some pages in my pad until I find the notes pages. 

“Fernando.” He smiles, extending his hand so I can shake it. I check where Seb is and, noting he has his back to us, I accept it. 

“P.C. Webber.” I say, trying to keep something formal about me. Fernando frowns.

“May I not call you Mark?” I swallow. Those eyes. 

“Sure.” I say, dropping my eyes back to my pad. “Number?”

“Do you not need my surname?” Fernando asks, trying to look at what I am writing. I move the pad away. 

“Yes, of course,” I say with a small blush, turning back to his ticket. He raises an eyebrow at me.

“Alonso-Díaz.” 

“Alonso-Díaz.” I repeat, writing it down. 

“Now you want my number?” Fernando asks with a coy smile. I blush and nod as he gives me the number. I turn back to his ticket after scribbling my name and number on the bottom of the notes page and tearing it off and holding it in my hand.

“Have you ever got a ticket before?”

“Nope.”

“Well since this is your first offence you’ll just get a fifty pound fine that needs to be paid within twenty-eight days. Have another offence and it will calculate to points on your licence.” I say, tearing off his ticket and handing it to him with the tear off of my number. He takes them both and smiles at me. 

“Thank you, P.C. Webber,” he says with a wink. Now the legal crap is out the way I lean closer to his car, letting my fingers feel the silky structure as I support myself against it. 

“You came past us twenty-one time-” I start.

“-You were counting?”

“It’s my job to count. Besides, when you see a car like this you want to keep track of how many times you’ve seen it.” I say and he nods. “What were you doing?”

“Was lost.” Fernando says. I suspect it’s a lie but I don’t push it.

“What do you have to have as a job to be able to afford this?” I ask, looking over the interior before my eyes fall back on him. Those eyes. And I-

“-If that’s everything, Constable, then maybe we should leave.” Seb shoots at me as he stalks his way back to the car. I sigh. Fernando looks at me with curious eyes. 

“So what do you do now?” he asks as I get up. 

“Back to the station, record your fine and then home to rest until about eight this evening when I go back into the office for a few hours and do some paperwork.”

“Then you come back here?”

“Nah, someone else tonight. I get to sleep.”

“I see.” He says, and if I’m not mistaken, there is a hint of sadness in his voice. 

“I guess I might see you around then.” I say with some reluctance to actually leave. Fernando ponders something. 

“Definitely.” He smiles. I take a few steps away from him when he speaks again. “I was wondering-”

“-Yes?” I say, moving back over to him. He smiles at my return.

“If you have time today, after you have recorded my fine, I wondered if you wanted to… Show me around the town? Am very new here and do not know where many things are…” He blushes slightly, which makes me smile.

“Yeah, alright. Maybe then you can tell me really why you drove past us twenty-one times.” A bit of panic shoots through his eyes. “As a friend. Off the record.” I add and he relaxes. 

“Good. I come to the station in about half hour?” I nod and we exchange a smile before I move off toward the police car. I’m sure he does it for me, but he revs the engine and makes it yell before he drives off. I can’t take the smile off my face as I climb into the car next to Seb who has his arms folded. 

“That was very unprofessional, Mark.” Seb says, not looking at me. I turn on the engine and pull off, heading for the station. 

“Lighten up.” I say, indicating off the roundabout and watching Fernando’s Ferrari go round to the next exit.

“You were encouraging him to speed! That’s the opposite of what your supposed to do.”

“No, I said I could understand why he did it. There’s a difference.”

We got back to the station and went our separate ways. I practically dove in my office to input Fernando’s ticket and get out of there. I felt like I was craving his company and I’d only known him ten minutes. I blamed his eyes. And his accent. And his cheekiness. And… All right, so I just blamed him. All of him. Damn him and those pretty eyes. I pulled the page with his name and number out of my pad before changing out of my police uniform and back into my casuals. Fernando…

Maybe it’s not such a boring job after all.


	2. Company

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Certain company is necessary

After I have been standing out the front of the station for ten minutes it suddenly occurs to me that Fernando might not know where the station is. He said he was fairly new around here, maybe that means he doesn’t know where to find me. I suddenly feel stupid, like I should have expected this. What was I hoping to gain from meeting up with him? I’m a realistic kind of guy. I don’t believe in that love at first sight crap. I decide this is stupid, because I’m looking like a lost fool and some of my colleagues are turning up. I really don’t need then asking questions about why I am hovering around the front of the station after a nine-hour night shift. 

“Morning, Mark!” Lewis calls as he ascends the stairs. I simply wave in response, sliding my sunglasses onto my face. 

“You both still alive?” Nico laughs. I frown at him as Lewis returns to his side. 

“Alive?”

“Well, we’re not going to have to sign off a body bag are we?” Lewis continues Nico’s jab but I don’t understand what they’re going on about. 

“Sebastian, Mark. You both made it through the evening in one piece?” Nico explains. I smile. 

“Just about.”

“You know if you ever did anything to him Horner would kill you.” Nico continues, slightly desperately. I exasperate. 

“If I ever did anything to him do you really think I would hang about to wait for Horner’s wrath?” I say. Nico nods in agreement. “He’s a monumental pain in my arse but I wouldn’t do anything to hurt him.” I send Nico a sly smile. “Not yet anyway.”

“Come off it, Mark, you’re not ballsy enough to hurt a fly.” The easily recognisable voice of my best friend filters across the car park. I sigh, holding my back to him. He really does pick his fucking moments. 

“How would you know?” Lewis calls to Him. “You don’t know what he did in that year out with the detectives from Turkey.” Lewis says smugly. His hand claps on my shoulder and I can tell he’s smirking without even having to look round. 

“I know he got pestered by Vettel for six months and then the Turkey dudes spilt.” Jenson grins. I turn to him. 

“I’m so glad you have my back.” I state sarcastically. Jenson pats my cheek. 

“Anytime, buddy.”

“It was eight months.” I correct to Lewis. 

“That still leaves four where nothing was going on. Secretly sneaking into the office so people wouldn’t know you were back. How many times did I hide you in the boot of my car?” Jenson teases. I roll my eyes at him. 

“If you’re quite done.” I say, moving away from the station. Everyone knows what happened with the Turkish detectives, Jenson just likes to actively remind everyone. Lewis and Nico go inside, followed by Daniel, Jean-Eric and Sergio as I head towards the pathway. 

“Alright, I’m sorry. I didn’t keep sneaking you into the station.” Jenson smiles, catching up to me. I look nervously down the road. 

“Don’t worry, mate, I know you’re messing around.” I say, eyes scanning the area. 

“So what are you still doing here? I never see you around the morning after a night shift.” Jenson observes. I turn to face him. 

“Just… Chilling.” I shrug. Jenson taps his nose, pointing at me. 

“You’re waiting for something… No! Someone. You’ve met someone.” Jenson grins. I feel the blush tint my cheeks. 

“I haven’t. I’m waiting for the bus.” I say, pointing to the stop beside me. Jenson folds his arms, looking unconvinced. 

“Mark, I have been an interrogational officer for four years. Give me a little respect please.” Jenson says smugly. I look at him blankly. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You’re lying.” Jense states bluntly. “Is he hot?”

“Jenson!” I exclaim, shocked by his boldness. Although it is Jenson. Nothing should really shock me. 

“Is that a yes?”

“I’m not answering your stupid questions.” I sigh, shaking my head. “And I’m going home.”

“But what about your mystery date?”

“I’m going home.” I say more firmly, trying to ignore Jenson’s smirk.

“Alright. I’ll just wait here and tell him you bailed.” Jenson smiles, taking a seat. I look at him with a raised eyebrow but after he’s still sitting there five minutes later I sigh, taking a seat next to him.

“This is ridiculous.” I mutter, dropping my head in my hands. Jenson pats my back. 

“It’s good. Nice to see you’re finally moving on.”

“Jense-”

“-All right, all right, I won’t go into the sob story.” Jenson says, holding his hands up in surrender. I exasperate. “So…”

“Don’t you have work?” I ask, turning to face him. Jenson brushes my comment away with a simply wave of his hand. 

“Not ‘till later. I was going to head out on a coffee run.” Jenson says. I nod. 

“Everyone is going to miss out on their morning caffeine.” I tut. “You’re letting everyone down.”

“Maybe it will get Lewis off heat.” Jenson winks. I sit forwards, intrigued. 

“You mean that’s not just a rumour?” I smile. Jenson shakes his head. 

“But that’s for later. We can discuss it over lunch.” Jenson smiles smugly. It makes me feel uneasy. I swallow dryly. “Why don’t you tell me about your new friend.” 

“Do you reckon Lewis will make a move? I reckon he won’t-” I try, changing the subject. Jenson just laughs at me. 

“Come on, Mark. For once you have gossip. Spill!” Jenson slaps my arm and I pretend he has caused me serious damage. “When did you meet?”

“I think you’ve broken my arm…” I mutter, looking at the red mark on my skin. Jenson slaps it again. “Ow, fucker!”

“Where did you meet?” Jenson presses through a laugh. I sigh. There really isn’t much point in trying to withhold information when Jenson is in this mood. 

“About half an hour ago.” I mutter, feeling the heat creep around my neck. Jenson nods, impressed. 

“So you’ve got yourself a criminal, eh?” he teases. I roll my eyes. 

“He was just speeding. Nothing big.”

“That’s how they all start, Mark.” Jenson warns in a jokey father-like tone. 

“I think I can take care of myself, thanks.”

“Hey, do you reckon he has a fantasy about a policeman?” Jenson laughs. “Like, maybe he’ll want you to wear your uniform and-”

“-Fuck off, Jenson.” I spit, getting to my feet. This is stupid. Jenson grabs my wrist. 

“All right, calm down.”

“Some fucking best friend you are.” I shoot, falling back into the seat beside him. He rests his head on my shoulder, looking up at me with adorable eyes. Though Jenson’s are blue and soft. Nothing like Fernando’s. Fernando’s are dark and mysterious. So easy to get lost in…

“That’s why you love me, Mark. You couldn’t deal with me any other way.” Jenson coos. I shove him off me. 

“Unfortunately I think you’re right.”

“Tell me about him.” Jenson requests gently. I shrug. 

“There really isn’t much to tell.”

“Come on, you’ve known him, what, twenty minutes?”

“Exactly.” I say, blushing deeply. How desperate must I seem? “That’s why there is not much to tell.”

“You know his name, right?” Jenson asks. I shoot him a bored expression. 

“Yes.”

“And…?”

“Fernando.” I mutter. The way my tongue wraps around his name causes a buzz of feeling in my stomach that hatches a smile on my face. A feeling I haven’t felt in a very long time. Jenson smiles knowingly at me. 

“Fernando…” Jenson says, as if trying the name out for size. “What car does he drive?”

“Why does that matter?” I ask, slightly confused. 

“You can tell a lot about a man by the car he drives, Mark.” Jenson states omnisciently. I can’t hep but laugh. “What?”

“You would know.” I scoff. 

“I would actually.” 

“Right, and what does your crappy Ford say about you?”

“My crappy Ford is in Police colours, Mark. It says I’m in control, powerful-”

“-Drive a crappy Ford.” I smirk. Jenson hits me again. “You’ve got an awful habit of doing that, you know.” I say, rubbing my arm. 

“What is Fernando going to think if you turn up all bruise….” Jenson teases. I, in turn, hit him back. “I’m not sure Fernando will like it if you’re this violent.” Jenson pouts, rubbing his arm. “Or maybe he will…”

“Ok, you need to leave.” I state, pushing Jenson from the bench. Jenson just laughs at me. 

“No, I want to meet him.”

“Definitely not.”

“You’re not feeling threatened by me, are you, Mark?” Jenson teases. But it hits a sore spot. Whenever Jenson and I go out together he seems to turn into this magnet, gravitating attractive company to surround him. I’ve never managed to get that. I’ve never had that knack. Normally I just sit beside him, drinking my beer as he chats up some lucky man or woman. Normally man. 

Well, it’s been a man for the last three years. I don’t think he ever got over how much Jessica hurt him…

I’m not sure I can ever see Jenson settling down with anyone. I think he enjoys being able to do whatever - or whomever - he wants whenever he wants. That’s why things didn’t work out with Nico and him… Or Lewis and him... Or Rubens and him… Anthony and him… Robert and him… Jamie was just a fling, thinking back… Or him and me for that matter. 

But that is another story that is completely irrelevant to this one. 

Maybe not completely irrelevant but it deters from the point…

Like this…

“No.” I say in a voice that reveals I’m probably lying. However subtle I think it is it screams to Jenson. I keep forgetting he’s had four years training of how to ‘read’ people. 

“I wouldn’t do that to you, Mark. However hot he is.” Jenson’s playful tone can still be heard but it’s mainly serious. Soothing.

“You wait until you see his car.” I mutter. Jenson, unfortunately, hears. 

“Then I’m definitely not going anywhere.” He grins, retaking his seat beside me. Great. I think. Jenson just claps my shoulder. “Don’t worry. When he turns up I’ll go.” If he turns up. I find myself thinking. 

And it suddenly feels like David all over again. 

~

Can see Kimi is waiting at our finish line. Is not surprising he is here before me. But right now I do not care about our little bet. I find I am already fishing for my wallet as I stop my car. Kimi’s identical version in black being leaned against by the Finn himself. His smirk widens as I climb out, fifty pounds held tightly in my hand.

“Finally showed then?” He smirks as I close my door. I literally throw the money at him before I am heading back to my seat. Kimi’s hand is on the top of my door in an instant. “Did not have you down as a sore looser.” He teases. I pull his hand off my car. 

“Am not.”

“Is what it looks like from where I am standing, El Nano.” He mimics. I shake my head. I hate him for finding out about that stupid nickname. 

“Am in a hurry.” I admit, cringing internally. Know that Kimi will take this as an invitation to request more details, even if, had this been the other way round, I would have been able to get nothing more. 

“Where?” He asks, as if on cue. I roll my eyes, covered by my sunglasses. 

“Have to go somewhere.”

“Where?”

“Does not matter.” I spit, checking my watch. Kimi still refuses to move. Is very annoying as I realise it is a twenty minute journey from here to the station and I have ten minutes to get there. I do not want to risk gaining another ticket for speeding. So I simply pull on the door, letting it open and smack Kimi in the chest. 

“Oomfph!” He complains, rubbing his stomach. I smile as I climb back in my car, starting up the engine. Kimi suddenly starts insistently hammering on my window. Reluctantly I roll it down. 

“What?” I exasperate. Kimi frowns at me. 

“Andrea called. Wants to see you later.” Kimi says in a bored tone. I give one nod.

“Fine.” I move to close my window but Kimi puts his hand on it. Is very annoying.

“Why did you loose?” He asks. Am slightly stunned by his question. 

“Am sorry?”

“You had the quicker route. Should have beaten me.” I blush, pulling on my seatbelt. Am not in the mood to get into this with Kimi right now and I am already going to be late to meet Mark. I begin reversing. 

“Got pulled over.” I state before winding up the window and driving away, leaving my teammate standing perplexed in the middle of the car park. I hit the steering wheel in frustration as I note the time. There is no way I am getting to the other side of town in six minutes. 

Fucking Kimi. 

~

“No, Jenson, we’re not playing I-fucking-spy.” I state for the third time. “I had enough of that with the little shit last night.”

“Did Sebastian meet Fernando?” Jenson asks, turning his head towards me and saying Fernando’s name in a poor mimic of a Spanish accent. I suppose he was Spanish thinking about it. “Hello? Earth to Mark?” Jenson yells, waving his hand in front of my face. I bat it away, blushing. 

“Sorry?” I mutter, staring at my shoes. 

“Did Seb…” My shoes are really quite scruffy. How is that going to look when he turns up? He probably has really nice shoes that match his really nice car. And he’ll probably take one look at me in my casuals and wonder what the fuck he is doing here. Maybe he’s already been passed and seen me… Maybe he’s already drove passed and thanked his lucky stars he could get out of this meeting. That sounds about-

“-For fuck sake, Mark, can I not hold your attention for three seconds?” Jenson exasperates, sitting on my lap. I shove him onto the floor as I get to my feet. “Where are you going?” he calls as I begin storming down the street. I feel humiliated. Why on Earth did I feel like this was a good idea? “Mark! Hey! Wait up!”

“Go to work, Jense.” I mutter, still staring at my feet. Scruffy fucking shoes. Jenson grabs my wrist. 

“Where are you going?”

“Home.” There is a small pause where neither of us moves. 

“What about Fernando?”

“I’m probably helping him out.” I mutter, pulling from his grip. Suddenly Jenson is forcing me back towards the bench. “Fucking hell, Jenson, I’m not a child.” I spit as Jenson sits me down. 

“Don’t be so bloody ridiculous, Mark.”

“What? I’m right though. Jense, he was supposed to be here fifteen minutes ago. He’s been and gone. It’s understand-Fuck!” I yell as Jenson’s palm thwacks across my cheek. He’s glaring at me. Properly glaring. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him this angry. 

“I won’t go through this with you again. He is the one with the problem, Mark, not you. You have to move forwards. I know it hit you hard when he left you without really explaining but it was for the best. You need to get over this. Get over him. Don’t let him ruin every other fucking relationship you have. Go out with Fernando and stop thinking about this. Fernando’s probably just stuck in traffic.” Jenson states. He crouches in front of me, his tone dropping and going soft. “You are ten times better than him, Mark.”

“Jense, I’m just making a fool of myself.” I mutter, staring at my hands. And my shoes. My fucking shoes. I’m not thinking about David. Not talking about David. Even though it’s probably the reason for my nerves. My apprehension. 

“You’re not-”

“-Just look at me.” I sigh, gesturing to my feet. “He drives a fucking Ferrari, Jense. What am I going to look like with him? It’s going to look like charity…” I mutter. There is another scream of pain on my face as Jenson apparently tries to snap me out of my mood. “Fuck!”

“Stop it.” Jenson demands. “This Fernando guy would be fucking lucky to be seen with you.”

“He’s not coming, Jense. Lets just admit it and go home.” I sigh, trying to get to my feet as I rub my cheek. Jenson, however, seems slightly distracted and his gaze is locked on something down the road. I try to look but I can’t see what he’s looking at. 

“What colour car did you say he had?” Jenson asks. I swallow nervously, my eyes raking the traffic. 

“Red.”

“458?” I swallow.

“Uh huh.”

“Registration plate ending ‘F-A-D’?” I freeze on the spot. “Mark, breath.” Jenson smiles, crouching in front of me again. I try to get up but he holds me still. 

“I need to go.”

“I’m not letting you go. Definitely not now.” He beams. I shake my head. 

“This is a mistake.” My eyes have locked on the curb of the pavement. I hear Jenson’s laugh and then his arm is gone. And I know I can move but I physically can’t. I can’t get out of this bench. 

“Mark?” A voice I have only ever heard once calls. My eyes flick up to him. And I can’t remember how to breathe. Or talk. Or even function. I just stare at him. He looks concerned as he gets out of his car and walks over to me. Fernando frowns, looking over my face in an unsure manner. And then his hands are on my forehead. And he’s checking I'm Ok. And I relax. Because his touch is nice. Soft. Supportive. I close my eyes before I realise my eyelids have dropped. “Mark? Are you OK?” He asks, giving my shoulder a soft shake. I blush as I open my eyes, limbs all suddenly active again. But Fernando is still frowning at me. His fingers tracing the red mark Jenson probably left on my face. And my mouth has gone dry. I look to his car for some kind of support. 

“You can’t park there.” I blurt out, instantly feeling the fool. Fernando looks over his shoulder at his car before returning his frown to me. 

“Sorry?” I feel extremely bashful. Especially considering he is resting his second hand on my thigh to keep his balance. 

“Your car. You… You can’t park there.” I point. “Double yellows…”

Smooth.

I internally roll my eyes at myself.

Right now I’d happily throw myself under the passing bus but Fernando finds it funny. Maybe cute or something, I don’t know. But he smiles at me, apparently amused. 

“Sorry, Officer,” He teases, giving me a small salute. “Was only picking up.” He jokes warmly, offering me his hand. I take it, still feeling like a complete dick. He lets go once I’m on my feet, leading me towards his car. “So when do you get off work?” He asks with a grin. I frown, confused. 

“Huh?”

“When does P.C Webber stop working? Or does he follow us around all day? Do I need to be on my best behaviour?” Fernando jests and I suddenly fall into his joke. He’s mocking me. I roll my eyes. 

“It’s alright, I’ll tell him to go away.” I smile. Fernando nods as he gets in the car. I hover awkwardly on the passenger’s side. 

“Can get in, Mark. Otherwise is hard to take you places.” Fernando calls from the car. I scoff as I get in, leaving my feet outside.

“You’re a wise one, aren’t you.” I say sarcastically. Fernando slides his sunglasses into his hair, frowning at me sitting awkwardly. 

“What are you doing?” He laughs. I feel the blush running from underneath my collar. 

“Getting in your car…?” I mutter my feet still planted firmly on the tarmac. 

“Then get in. Do not hang out.” Fernando smiles, adjusting his rear view mirror. I sigh. I can’t put my shitty shoes in his nice car, can I? No, what a ridiculous thing to suggest. That’s definitely not happening. There has to be a way around this. I could lie, tell him I forgot something and go and change into my uniform shoes. I’m just not sure they will look right with my jeans… Maybe if I put my uniform trousers back on as well… Is that a bit too smart? Or too much of a change? Surely he will notice if I come out wearing a complete new outfit. Come on, this is stupid. I’ll just take the shoes off-

“-Mark?” Fernando asks softly. Awkwardly, I now have one shoe off my foot and in my hand. 

What a great first impression this must be. He must think I’m a lunatic. 

Well, I’ve started this now. May as well finish.

“Yeah?” I say, looking at my feet as I untie my second lace. Fernando’s hand rests softly on my shoulder. 

“What are you doing?” He asks, all humour gone in his voice. 

Yup; he think’s I’m mental. 

“I’m taking off my shoes…” I mutter, wishing the ground would just swallow me whole. Fernando laughs lightly behind me and I can’t help but look over at him, notice how the laugh crinkles his eyes slightly, warming them. And I’m suddenly mesmerised, completely forgetting what I’m doing or whom I’m with. Where I am. Because I’m lost in his eyes. And for some reason I feel like he’s lost in mine… 

He clears his throat, looking out the front window and bringing us both to the here and now. I blush, but it’s comforting to see the red streak across his face too. Endearing. I can’t take my eyes off him. 

“Why?” He asks, his voice breaking on the small word and his cheeks getting redder. I smile. 

“Sorry?”

“Why… Why are you taking off your shoes?” He repeats. 

“It’s a nice car.” I say quietly. He frowns at me. 

“Has had much worse, believe me.” Fernando sighs, gesturing for me to close the door. I do, dropping my shoes by my feet and pulling on my seatbelt. Fernando rests his hand on my knee, instantly drawing my attention to him. “Please put them back on. Is no problem.” He smiles. I sigh, giving a small nod and reluctantly pulling my shoes back on my feet. The one thing I didn’t want to do was draw attention to them. And so far I’ve-

“-They look like they have seen better days.” Fernando observes as he starts the car. The urge to run is high but Fernando’s hand is still on my knee. There is a vibration from beside me and I am distracted from my lace by his phone flashing up. A man’s face that I don’t recognise is obscured by a message.

From: Kimi   
To: Fernando   
-8:02    
Call Andrea.

“What can I say? Police officer wagers are obviously not as high as…” I hesitate, inviting him to fill in the blank. He smiles at me, removing his hand from my leg to select the gear.

“Rally driver.” Fernando says calmly. I blink, slightly shocked. 

“Oh.” I say in a voice that is ten pitches higher than my normal voice. This makes Fernando laugh. 

“This is obviously a shock.” I shake my head. 

“No… Just…”

“What did you think I do?” Fernando inquires curiously. I blush again. 

“I wasn’t sure. I thought you might have robbed a bank or something. But I know you didn’t; I looked you up.” I say. Fernando turns to me. 

“You look me up?” He repeats with raised eyebrows. Having him repeat it makes me realise how creepy that sounded. I run a hand through my hair nervously. 

“I had to... To. File your fine. Had to know if you had any previous offence. Routine check…” I mumble. This really isn’t going well in my book. Fernando picks up his phone and reads the message, frowning, before sighing and dropping it back in the cup holder. 

“Right,” he says happily, his soft smile back on his face. I want to ask what the text was about and who it was from but seeing as we really just met I feel that might be a bit intrusive. I let it go. For now. “Shall we get breakfast?”

“Sounds great.” I smile, relaxing in the cool leather chair. Fernando checks his mirrors before pulling out and driving down the road. 

“Is there somewhere special you policemen go after a night shift?” Fernando smirks. I shake my head gently in a laugh. 

“Normally whatever is in my fridge.” I exhale, relaxing back further and slouching slightly. I hadn’t quite realised how tired I was. Normally by now I’d be sitting in front of the television with a bowl of cereal inching closer and closer to the floor as I nodded off in front of the pointless daytime programmes. But now I force my eyes to stay open, how ever much they protest. 

“Then I have a place if you don’t mind.” Fernando says, switching lanes. I shrug. 

“I’m easy.” 

“Will keep this in mind.” Fernando smirks again and I can feel the heat painting over my face. I could retract it but his response sends a shiver down my spine that I haven’t felt in a very long time. So I roll with it and my unfortunate way with words. My phone buzzes in my pocket and I know it is Jenson without even having to get the phone out. 

From: Jenson   
To: Mark   
-8:04   
Damn. Wish I had been on duty with you last night ;P   
Nice catch ;)   
Have fun. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t :P 

I let out a small, breathy laugh before pressing in a reply. 

From: Mark   
To: Jenson   
-8:05   
If I did what you do we’d never make it to breakfast ;)

I can feel Fernando glancing at me as Jenson’s reply comes through. 

From: Jenson   
To: Mark   
-8:06   
He’s taking you to breakfast, huh? :P   
You’re no fun. You need to live a little.

“Who is this?” Fernando asks as he pulls onto a slip road. I push my phone into my pocket after sending one last text. 

“My friend Jenson.”

“Oh… Ok…” Fernando seems slightly dishearten by my revelation. I turn to face him. 

“He’s a colleague of mine. We work at the station together.”

“I see.”

“I’ve known him for years.”

“Right.”

“We’re just friends.” I push, hoping for Fernando to understand. I don’t know why it’s so important to me. That’s a lie, I do. But Fernando just nods. I think he understands. At least, I hope he does.

From: Mark    
To: Jenson   
-8:06   
Live a little? Isn’t that what I’m doing right now? :)


End file.
